


You're my best friend

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 22:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: Gio catches up slightly too late with what's happening, but in his defense heiskind of drunk at this point. It's only when Nico kisses Marti on the lips and starts walking away that Gio realises what's going on and tries, too late, to look like spending the night alone drinking on Marti's sofa was his plan all along.





	You're my best friend

It's Marti's birthday party, and Gio is drunk.

Not drunk-drunk. But drunk enough that betting on how many chips Luchino could fit into his mouth at once stopped being hilarious a while ago, and now he's left there contemplating gloomily why he ever found it funny in the first place.

That kind of drunk.

The general mood has quietened too. The music is slower and more soulful. People are dancing, holding each other close, swinging vaguely in time with the music, occasionally making out too, and – well. If this wasn't Marti's party, if this wasn't Marti's house, Gio would have gone home a while ago.

Eva is dancing with Canegallo, her arms around his neck.

Gio lies back against the sofa and pretends he isn't watching them whisper God knows what in each other's ears and then giggle and start whispering all over again. When he tilts her chin up and starts kissing her, though, he has to look away.

They've never done that, he and Eva. Dancing together. He used to say it wasn't “his thing”.

What an idiot.

He drinks whatever is left in his plastic cup – it doesn't taste like anything anymore – and looks around for a distraction.

He notices Luca dancing with Silvia, face focused and serious, likely trying with everything he has not to step on her feet, and he has to snort a laugh. From the way the night was going only a couple of hours ago, with Luchino managing to hold thirty-seven chips in his mouth before gagging and throwing up everything he'd drunk in Marti's kitchen sink, he never would have guessed they'd up here.

But he supposes Luca has more game than they give him credit for.

Good for him, honestly. Gio is truly impressed.

Meanwhile, Elia is nowhere to be seen which means The Plan has probably worked.

Gio saw him look earlier – and he saw him try not to look. He let that pass the first few times, but then somewhere around the tenth or eleventh time he caught him glancing in the same direction, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Just go talk to Sofi and be done with it.”

Elia blushed at that – he actually, _genuinely_ blushed. Gio didn't think that was a thing he knew how to do.

“What? No! I didn't- I wasn't- I would _never!_ ”

Gio knew he would never, which is exactly why he told him to just go for it.

“Eli, it's fine, I promise.” _I don't care_ , he wanted to say, but that would have made him sound like an asshole. “There was never anything. Neither of us was... that into it, after all. You can go to her, it's okay.”

Elia looked at him, wide-eyed and sincere.

“Are you sure?”

Gio smiled.

“Just go,” he said. “She likes English rock bands, by the way. If you're looking for a conversation starter.”

Elia grinned, gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, and stood up from the sofa. Gio saw Sofia smile as she watched him approach, and now they've both disappeared from view. It's definitely a good sign.

Gio's thoughts bring him back to the present, and his eyes focus on the couples dancing once again. He sees Luca wiggle his eyebrows at him, as he and Silvia turn slowly on the spot, and he raises his empty cup in his direction.

He gets this weird feeling in the back of his neck, then. That of a familiar presence focusing on him, looking at him with intent, so he turns around and sure enough: there's Marti and Nico slow-dancing at the other side of the living room.

They aren't _dancing_ exactly. More like gently swaying on the spot while embracing, Nico's head a mass of dark curls as he lays it gently on Marti's shoulder. One of Marti's hand is cradling the back of Nico's neck, stroking softly, the other is on his hip.

But it's Marti eyes that startle him because Marti is looking straight at him. Focused, unreadable.

Gio raises his plastic cup in Marti's direction too, as he did with Luca a moment ago, but Marti does not react, and just like that Gio knows he's plotting something.

He watches him whisper something in Nico's ear – oh, God, not them too – and sees Nico's head snap up. He watches them turn around deliberately so Nico is front of Gio. Their eyes meet, and Nico smiles one of his famous bright smiles at him. Except Gio knows him now, and sometimes even he can tell when his smiles are unconvincing. Like right now.

Gio catches up slightly too late with what's happening, but in his defense he _is_ kind of drunk at this point. It's only when Nico kisses Marti on the lips and starts walking away that Gio realises what's going on and tries, too late, to look like spending the night alone drinking on Marti's sofa was his plan all along.

Marti starts walking towards him, and Gio sighs. Great, he managed to ruin Marti's birthday party. 

What an idiot. (Again.)

Gio tries to make amends by sitting up straighter to try and look more in control. He fully expects Marti to sit down beside him and ask what's wrong, so he tries to think of a lie that wouldn't ruin Marti's night further.

What's wrong is making out right over there, not even three meters away from this very sofa, but it's not like either of them can do anything about it, so why bother.

Why bother _Marti_ , that is.

Gio blinks, surprised, when Marti does nothing of the kind, but stands in front of him and offers him a hand instead.

“Dance with me?”

 _Wow, I must be a lot drunker than I thought I was_ , is his first thought. His first and only thought, to be honest.

“What?”

Marti rolls his eyes at him.

“I said, dance with me.”

Oh, so he isn't drunk. Well, not that much anyway. But maybe Marti is.

“Why?”

“Because you are sitting there looking sad and I don't like it.”

So he made that good an impression slouched on the sofa drinking alone, eh?

“I don't need you to pity me.”

“No, you do that well enough on your own,” Marti takes Gio's hand to try and get him to stand up. “Come on.”

“You know I don't dance.”

“I don't either. Neither do half of these people. Have you seen Luchino? He looks like he's trying to translate Callimachus, or something.”

Gio laughs at that, because it's so true.

“But what about Nico?”

“He's over there talking to Sana.” Marti tilts his chin towards them. “Also, it's not like we need to spend every second of every day joined at the hip.”

“Really?” Gio grins. Marti set this one up himself. “That's news to me.”

“Shut up. Will you dance with me or what?”

Gio tries to stall.

“But won't it look, you know, like, a bit...” he trails off and curses his drunken tongue because it did not sound this bad in his head.

Marti raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?”

“No, I don't think I do, actually.”

“Good. Let's dance now.”

Marti takes his hand again and honestly? Gio is too drunk to come up with more reasons why they shouldn't do this, so he lets Marti pull him to his feet. He stumbles a bit – why did he drink so much, God, why – and Marti laughs as he steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. He leads him away from the sofa so they can have more space and turns to face him.

It's suddenly awkward. Gio rubs his neck for something to do with his hands and Marti looks at the floor, his arms down his sides.

It takes a few seconds for them to get it together.

“So... Callimachus,” Marti says. He's speaking to the floor but he is smiling.

Their eyes meet and they both chuckle, and after that everything is easier.

Gio wraps his arms around Marti's waist and Marti puts his around Gio's shoulders. They start swaying gently – and kind of drunkenly, Gio thinks – on the spot, paying no mind to the music, the rhythm, the steps, or even the weird looks they're getting.

“I'm sorry I was sad at your party,” Gio says after a pause.

“I'm sorry you were sad at my party.” Marti gives him a small smile. “Is it a bit better now?”

“I don't know, man. You really aren't that good of a dancer, so.”

“Well, fuck you too.”

They grin at each other, as the music fades smoothly and a new song, a bit faster in rhythm, begins.

They did not care about rhythm before, when it was slow and chill and relaxed, and they still don't now it's somewhat more upbeat. But while the other song was completely unknown to him and Gio has managed to forget about it already, this one does seem to ring a bell. If only Gio had drunk less and could remember what exactly-

Marti freezes. He stops moving suddenly and Gio almost trips on his feet. He takes a step back to look at Marti.

_Is this... not alright anymore?_

He makes to remove his hands from Marti's waist, but Marti smiles and shakes his head.

“The song,” he says. “I've just realised. Do you know it?”

Gio listens more carefully. The lyrics are in English but they're not hard to understand.

_“I've been with you such a long time / You're my sunshine / And I want you to know / That my feeling are true / I really love you / Oh, you're my best friend.”_

Oh, _of course_. They look at each other and burst out laughing.

“What an idiot,” Marti says fondly, and Gio doesn't need to ask who's responsible for this because there's only one person here who's capable of this level of cheesy.

They turn together to look at Nico who is sporting the most unconvincing innocent face on the planet. He waves at them, Marti's phone in hand, from where he's supposedly deep in conversation with Sana and Eleonora. He smiles too and, well, Gio is no expert, but this smile right here looks genuine enough to him.

They keep swaying drunkenly and off beat to Queen, Marti's head on Gio's shoulder, but Gio's mind is clear enough that he knows there's still one thing he needs to say.

“Marti?” he calls, even though he's right there and there is no need.

“Mh?”

“I'm so proud that you're my best friend.”

He can _feel_ Marti smile even though he can't see his face.

“Me too,” Marti whispers in his ear.

He hugs him tight and doesn't let go. Gio supposes that means he wants to keep dancing, or whatever the hell it is they're doing right now.

It's perfectly fine with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Would Marti do this right now? Probably not.  
> Would Marti do this in the somewhat ill-defined future this fic is set in? Who knows.  
> Do I care about realistic characterisation? I mean, generally yes, but I wanted them dancing awkwardly to You're My Best Friend, so.
> 
> Basically, I embraced the scialla. It feels good. x


End file.
